Chapter 52: Second Update Today

Xie Chang'an finally completely refined the Golden-Threaded Robe.

This magical treasure fused with the umbrella, transforming the tattered umbrella she had picked up from the roadside—barely patched together by Zheer to remain usable—into a fairy-grade artifact intertwined with golden threads and silver silk, soft and shimmering with a gentle luster.

The world's one and only Golden-Threaded Umbrella was thus born.

No one would ever use a celestial garment to refine a tattered umbrella, except for Xie Chang'an.

The radiant glow extended from the umbrella to her person, transforming even her paper garments into a texture resembling silk. Her collars and sashes fluttered in the wind, making her look like a beauty carved from jade.

She slowly opened her eyes and let out a light breath.

The Golden-Threaded Robe repaired not only the umbrella but also her originally unstable soul, even granting her a physical body directly from her ghost state. Although this body happened to be an umbrella, aside from Zhuhuan, there was probably no precedent in this world for a fairy-grade magical treasure to attain human form.

Right now, she was even a bit confused, unsure whether she should be considered a demonic cultivator or a spirit artifact, yet she was still able to wield a sword...

One could say she embodied all the myriad paths of the world in a single person.

"Thank you," she said to Zhuhuan.

This favor was somewhat too heavy to bear.

"I have also benefited immensely. Guard me after we go out; I am about to break through my realm."

Having broken his vow of silence and stripped off the Golden-Threaded Robe, Zhuhuan changed his monastic robes into white ones, looking no different from an ordinary cultivator. However, having not spoken for centuries, he was long accustomed to being concise.

Just as Xie Chang'an was about to agree, a beam of white light suddenly materialized before them, and a blood-stained fox leaped out from the gap, crashing heavily into her arms. The pungent smell of blood rushing toward her made her frown.

"The Ghost King is coming! Zheer cannot stall him for long, hurry!"

The reason the fox was able to find Xie Chang'an with such precision was that she had previously secretly placed a fox hair on Xie Chang'an, allowing her to teleport to the other person's side even within an array. It was a life-saving trick she kept, true to her nature of having multiple stratagems for survival.

Yet, this might no longer save her life. After all, a fox with only half a heart, her old wounds unhealed and new ones added, might not survive even as a demonic cultivator.

She nearly passed out from pain in Xie Chang'an's arms, feeling as though her body had been cleaved in two, and lost consciousness immediately after speaking those words.

Even at the end, she thought that her injuries left her with only death to await. Having muddled through the Bone-Reflecting Realm for so many years, she actually did not have a single person she could truly trust, and the only one she could call an acquaintance was Xie Chang'an.

Yet, when she had let Xie Chang'an disguise herself as the Ghost King and lead people to the banquet, she could not deny that she had intended to use Xie Chang'an to attract attention and toss this chess piece away at a critical moment.

Xie Chang'an must have seen through it as well.

At death's door, the fox sighed listlessly.

She had clawed her way up from the mire, stubborn and refusing to yield to her fate, only for her death to end up being so ludicrous.

***

The Ghost King walked step by step toward Zheer, deliberately prolonging the other's wait for death, deriving greater pleasure from the other's agony.

He loved death, war, plague, and everything that drove people to writhe in a sea of suffering without release. The Bone-Reflecting Realm was both the soil that nurtured misery and the crucible that elevated his cultivation.

Yet he had been trapped within the Four-Response Bell for far too long—so long that he had almost forgotten the sweet taste of fresh blood and the exquisite beauty of watching others wail and suffer.

"You might as well beg me, and I can make things a bit more comfortable for you."

He spoke gently, looking at the prey before him like a lover whispering sweet nothings.

Zheer knelt on one knee, supporting himself with his sword in one hand. No matter how hard he suppressed it, he could not muffle his heavy, ragged breathing.

A massive, slanted gash was torn across his chest, and the blood flowing from it nearly soaked his garments, pooling into a shallow puddle.

Before this, he had already paid a grievous price in order to trap the Ghost King.

His spiritual power was nearly exhausted, leaving him unable to staunch his own bleeding, while he had only managed to inflict two tiny wounds on the Ghost King.

He had thought that after devouring Weiku's demonic core, his cultivation realm had ascended to a higher level, allowing him to at least engage in a war of attrition with the opponent. As a result, in less time than it took for an incense stick to burn, things had turned into his current predicament.

This old monster was practically invincible within this domain. Realizing this, Zheer's lingering thought of holding out until Xie Chang'an and the others arrived instantly plunged into despair. Faced with such an enemy, even if everyone joined forces, victory was probably impossible.

Could it be that after escaping to this netherworld with nine deaths and a single lifetime, he still could not escape his doom?

He could not help but let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

Had he known it would come to this, he would have rather died on Mount Fuguang back then—at least it would have been a glorious end.

The Ghost King also found this prey uninteresting.

Unlike Wuming, who resisted fiercely, nor struggling in death throes, the man simply knelt there quietly as if he had completely given up his life, which instead robbed the Ghost King of his urge to torment him.

However, the Ghost King had no intention of killing him just yet.

Because what Wuming had said earlier was correct: even if he killed all these people, the Ghost King himself could not leave. On the contrary, Xie Chang'an, the one who had set up the array, seemed to have some knack for it and might know something.

At this thought, the Ghost King smiled faintly. "Rest assured, not only will I not kill you, but I will even help you fetch your companions..."

Before his voice faded, a biting intent to kill quietly arrived from behind.

The Ghost King had not expected someone to be able to condense sword qi into a thread; had he not been seasoned by endless slaughter, he would have barely been able to dodge it.

Yet just as he sidestepped and gripped the ghost spear snatched from Wuming, another strand of sword qi manifested beside him.

This sword qi was vast and unconstrained, carrying an even more majestic momentum as if it were not meant to kill a person, but rather to split the heavens apart.

A man in white clothes, and a young maiden in red.

The two came stepping upon the void, their garments fluttering, but more breathtaking than their appearances were their swords.

The Ghost King finally put away his nonchalant expression.

He swept backward with extreme agility, leaving nothing but afterimages within the field of vision.

Yet there was already someone quietly waiting for him behind him.

Zheer snapped his head up, leaped into the air, and with every ounce of strength his life had to offer, drove his sword into the Ghost King's back!

The sword in his hand had been seized from Weiku; its name and origin were unknown, but it carried an immensely baleful aura.

With every clash in the Bone-Reflecting Realm, he had embraced the resolve to meet death, and this time was no exception.

Xie Chang'an probably did not know that Zheer had once thought that if he failed to find her in the end and could not heal his wounds, he would simply slaughter his way back to Mount Fuguang.

Yet in the end, he had found her.

Perhaps it was because Xie Chang'an's trials were even more tempestuous than his own, or perhaps because the two of them had encountered successive perils with no time to spare for distractions, but his deep-seated resentment slowly settled, leaving him with no space to dwell on those past events.

At this very moment, the threat of the Ghost King was right before him, and the ferocity lurking deep within his bones was once again ignited. Zheer gripped his sword tightly with his right hand while forming incantations and seals with his left. As the blade buried itself into the Ghost King's body, he pressed a talisman—ignited by his burning spiritual power—straight onto the enemy's back!

The Ghost King finally let out a low roar resembling a miserable scream, unleashing all his ghost qi to blast the three figures around him flying.

Yet those streams of sword qi also left deep and shallow scars across his body.

The Ghost King laughed loudly. "You don't really think you can kill me like this, do you?"

How naive! How adorable!

With a shake of both arms, the ghost qi swirling around him violently surged outward in all directions, and within the black miasma, hideous ghostly faces lunged at the three of them, instantly enveloping and overwhelming them.

The resentment and bitterness carried by those ghostly faces were enough to move mountains, flatten seas, and destroy countless mortal cities; the Ghost King simply did not believe they could withstand it.

Although cultivators were stronger than mortals, their ambitions were also loftier. They desired power, immortality, and peerless glory in the world; as long as desires existed, these ghostly faces would perceive them.

Zheer was already heavily injured, and under the impact of this ghost qi, the negative emotions in his heart surged forth like a torrent, causing him to stagger back a few steps and his legs to grow weak—

A soft, chilled hand pressed against his back, steadying him firmly.

"What are you thinking about?" he heard Xie Chang'an ask.

Zheer was momentarily dazed. "I thought of..."

He thought of that night on Mount Fuguang, when his fellow disciples, with whom he had grown up, fell one by one. The swords were pulled from their corpses, and blood flowed into the crevices of the stones toward every corner of the mountain.

That night was cold—so cold that even now, whenever he recalled it, his very bones felt as though they had frozen. The moon that night was also blurred, blurred to the point where he could barely see the path as he carried his junior martial brother in his escape.

In the end, his junior brother was pierced through the heart by a sword, urging him to run quickly with his dying breath.

He raised his head, breathing heavily, tears streaming down his face.

"Do not let yourself be defeated by your own imagination."

He heard someone's cold yet calm voice by his ear.

"Think of your master, Master Canmiao; do not let her feel that her sacrifice was in vain."

Yet what was the sacrifice exchanged for?

Zheer thought with bitter mockery: if she had known that after her fall, the disciples under her seat would be slaughtered to the last man, would she still have made that choice?

"She would."

Xie Chang'an seemed to hear the thoughts in his heart.

"She chose her Dao, and fulfilled her own beginning and end; you, too, have your own Dao to walk. I will say it again: do not be swayed by the Ghost King's illusions, or you will only sink deeper and deeper, dying with blood flowing from your seven orifices!"

Zheer closed his eyes, barely calming his churning emotions.

"Xie Chang'an... why can the Ghost King's techniques not affect you at all?"

Having clearly experienced a betrayal even more cruel than his own, having suffered the complete ruin of her reputation and met her demise at the hands of the person closest to her with a sword piercing her heart—how could she still remain so calm?

"Because,"

The red-clad maiden's sword vibrated lightly, a dazzling iridescent radiance parting the eerie ghost qi as it effortlessly shattered the hideous, greedy ghostly faces, rippling outward like droplets falling onto the surface of a lake, instantly breaking the calm layer by layer.

She let go of the hilt, allowing the sword light to soar forward while forming a sword seal with her index and middle fingers. The red umbrella above her head formed a barrier, blocking the myriad ghosts lunging toward the two of them.

"I once experienced the nightmare of a hundred deaths followed by rebirth in Limeng City—where truth and falsehood were indistinguishable, as illusory as they were real. Compared to that experience, the Ghost King's little tricks truly amount to nothing."

As she spoke, she actually let out a laugh.

For all of this, she still had to thank Zhu Xuanguang. Although that man was no good, he had not shirked half a cent of his duty when teaching his disciple. If not for her drive to catch up to his footsteps and prove herself worthy of being the disciple of the number one person in the world, she would not have practiced like a madwoman day and night, to the point where she now appeared entirely at ease.

Even the overwhelming ghost qi could not obscure her edge.

Zheer did not know when he had snapped out of his past torment. He gazed at the maiden with fluttering garments and slender fingers, watching Liutian Sword soar through the void at her will, slaughtering all darkness and breaking through every ghost realm.

This single sword strike was like a shooting star shattering the moon, carving the earth and dividing the mountains.

Its jade blade could sever the clouds, and its heroic spirit spontaneously brought forth spring.

A surge of warm current welled up in his heart, bubbling in silence. He suppressed this subtle and strange anomaly, and his own sword followed closely behind like a flying ray of light intercepting the stars, helping to finish what Liutian Sword had started.

Terrified by the sword's glare, the myriad ghostly faces fled in panic.

Only a single face hidden among them, wearing what seemed to be the most vicious expression in the world, smiled at the corners of its mouth as it watched Xie Chang'an and Zheer's sword qi crisscross, hacking the ghost qi to shreds.

It lurked in the deepest darkness, waiting to deliver a fatal blow to them.

"Found you."

A chilling voice suddenly exploded beside his ear. The Ghost King was startled, too late to escape, as a searing pain struck and his soul was violently torn apart!

"How could you... impossible..."

He stared in disbelief at the suddenly appearing Zhuhuan, knowing full well he had cast away a false bodily shell precisely to distract this person.

"Do you know what my true form is?" Zhuhuan said coldly.

An ancient divine weapon, opening the heavens through eternity: the first devoured gods, the second was Zhuhuan.

The three-foot Zhuhuan Sword slaughters every bit of parting sorrow in the heavens.

An artifact turned spirit, the only one of its kind in heaven and earth. Ghost qi would naturally recoil in terror at the mere sight of him, for he was born to be the nemesis of the Ghost King.

Yet he had deliberately restrained his aura just now, and the Ghost King, preoccupied with dealing with Xie Chang'an and the others, had underestimated this ultimate weapon of mass destruction, ultimately bringing about his own execution.

The Ghost King roared in fury, his dying shrieks echoing as his soul dissolved into nothingness.

"Even if you kill me, you will never get out! Be trapped here forever!"